My Future in a Mirror
by Quintessential Dreams
Summary: Done for a Competition; Millicent Bullstrode stumbles upon the Mirror of Erised and sees what she thinks is to be her future.


**My Future in a Mirror**

**I do not own anything coinciding with the Harry Potter franchise; all that belongs to JK Rowling and Co.**

**This is my second entry to lost in my design's Mirror of Erised Competition. My second Character was Millicent Bullstrode**

It was such an odd looking mirror. There were words written in some odd language – she knew it wasn't Latin; Mother and Father had made sure she learned that as a second language before she started Hogwarts so that she would have a decent understanding of most spells. This language, she couldn't decipher what it meant. She had hoped that with Latin being the main root for most other languages, she would be able to figure it out, but nothing made sense. None of the words looked to be in a form of what she could make out and the form just wasn't right. Now, she never prided herself on her ability to take complex tasks and break them down into something more understandable, but she wasn't dim-witted like some of her other schoolmates.

She wasn't sure where she even was. She was aware that she was still in the castle and somewhere near the sixth or seventh floor, but she couldn't be entirely sure. All she knew was that she had left the comfort of her common room – as it hadn't been so comforting at the time – and just ran. That stupid, stupid boy; he was ignorant and just a plain git! How dare he make fun of her just because his _Daddy_ could get him the mark a year _earlier_ than most of their house? How dare_ he_ tell her that no one really liked her? Now, she was no Hufflepuff, but some of those things had hurt. But then again, what did you expect from a slimy Slytherin – and the damned Draco Malfoy at that?

Still, his words had hurt and most of her friends had laughed with him. He could have made fun of Crabbe and Goyle for their immense stupidity and idiosyncrasy to idiocy. He could have even told Parkinson and Greengrass – both Greengrass girls – that they applied too much of their time philandering the other boys – as well as himself – and not enough time sticking to their studies. Oh no, he had to tell her that she was just not Slytherin enough for Slytherin. Could one even believe that? She couldn't. He had to bring up her blood and then to add insult to injury; her weight. Did he really think she wanted to be over one hundred kilograms? Bloody hell she didn't! He was just so infuriating sometimes.

She let herself breath and get her emotions back under control. It would do her no good to go back to the Slytherin dorms only to be badgered once again for being such a bloody Hufflepuff. Taking a deep breath, Millicent pulled herself under the great deal of control she had gained from the five – going on six – years being in Slytherin with all the purebloods. So what if her friends thought Draco Malfoy was this big shot who could now parade around with the damned Dark Mark on his right forearm now. Her family didn't completely support the war; in fact, her parents had become neutral. Whichever side won, they would come back into society. Millicent? Well, she just wanted the reign of power to stop. She couldn't understand why such a madman who worshiped the ground that purebloods walked on wanted to get rid of all muggles; muggleborns; and half-bloods when he _himself_ was a bloody half-blood. And then there was Millicent; the one or so half-blood in the snake-pit full of purebloods.

Millicent wiped the tear-streaks from her cheeks and wiped her eyes rid of the offending substance. She had to remind herself constantly that she was no Hufflepuff; sure she was loyal to her House, and could be considerate to those who knew her best – Mother and Father that was – but in order to be considered the Slytherin she was sorted into, she had to give off this dumb rough and tumble nature. She didn't want to fight Granger back in Second Year, but the bloody girl had just attacked her! Well, of course, they were supposed to be duelling; _but she deliberately provoked me into putting her into that headlock!_

As she looked into the mirror, it began to change. She looked a great deal older, her hair had straightened out from it obnoxious waviness; her features had toned down a bit and didn't make her look so much like a brute. Her height had shot up from one hundred sixty-five centimetres to a good 175 centimetres and her weight went down to what looked to be around seventy kilograms. On her hip sat a cute little girl with soft deep brown hair pulled tightly into two plaits. A pretty sundress – much like the ones her own mother had put her in – sat on the small frame. She looked to be only a few years old, but she held onto Millicent for dear life. Those soft hazel eyes reminded Millicent of her Father.

For some reason, Millicent had this distinct feeling that what she was viewing was what she aspired to be in the future. This could be her life; that little girl could be her daughter. Millicent hadn't actually ever thought much about what would happen after she left Hogwarts. Maybe Potter would defeat the Dark Lord and this could be the future she had once wanted as a little girl. There was a conversation she had had with her mother that this one moment shown to her in a mirror brought back.

"_Mummy, can I talk to you?" A small child with a bright, sunny dress hopped onto the counter where her mother was chopping carrots for a stew. While her Daddy was a pureblood wizard, Mummy was a muggleborn. The three of them had lived in the house Daddy's family had given them. A mansion was what he called it. To her, it was a castle._

"_Of course, my Millie; what is it you want to talk about?" Millicent's mother had put the carrot and knife down, turned the stove off almost completely – a device her Daddy was still having trouble understanding – and turned to her only daughter._

"_Well, Daddy said when I growed up, I'm going to Hogwarts, but what do I do when I'm done?"_

"_Well, what is it you want to do, sweetheart?"_

"_I want to be a Mummy like you." Her bright chocolate eyes brightened only the slightest, but her voice was full of determination. "I want to live in my very own castle like this and have lots and lots of babies. I want to be a Mummy to each and every one of them."_

_Her mother was taken aback for just a moment. Her daughter had never voiced her dreams and desires before; despite being only the age of six. "Goodness, Mill. That certainly would be great. I would love being a Grandmother to all of your beautiful children."_

"_Mummy…" the child's voice was quiet and reserved now, as if she had just been told she would go to bed with no dinner._

"_What is it, love?" Her mother placed her arms around Millicent in a sign of affection._

"_Daddy said I have to have a boy. One boy, to carry on as an heir; what's that mean?"_

"_Oh, lovely, you can have as many babies as you very well please. If you want one baby, then have one baby. But if you want ten babies, then by all means, you can have ten babies, Millicent."_

The memory sounded so funny now, but back when she was six-years-old, it had meant everything in the world to her. She still wanted a few children, just not ten like her mother had suggested. But she certainly wanted a girl. The girl wondered if the mirror could tell the future. Was this to be her life? A slim figure she wished to have back and an adorable baby girl sitting on her lap with that great big smile on her face. It sounded almost nice to her; this was what she had wanted when she was six. But did she want this now? Was this the future she now wanted? Did she want that little girl in her arms? Did she want this power-crazed maniac to completely destroyed by a boy her own age and live in a place where everything was all nice and good? "I think I do…" was what Millicent said before she left the mirror room. If that mirror did tell the future, then she could hardly wait for that little girl she could hold and cuddle; she could hardly wait for a day when she could finally breathe and not have a madman breathing down her own neck and watching every step she took.

**Author's Notes: Did you like it? Did you hate it? Let me know. Also let me know if you see any grammatical; spelling; or punctuation mistakes. I tend to make those when I type fast. ^_^**


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